Free Fiction Frusday.
&Ldquo;You pick now to complain?” I asked him, standing at the passenger side of the black Town Car he’d been driving for an hour. Second nature had me looking around, even if it was just row after row of fairly new cars. This place was a lot nicer than the usual areas we’d hang out, for sure. Mainly, though, I was just stretching my legs. Even in the big car, six foot three is a lot to fit into a bucket seat for an hour.
It was too hot for the black suit I was wearing, but it was habit for me to dress for work. It was even warmer as we moved away from the car and onto the open blacktop. Wade was in dress slacks and a nice leather jacket, strolling along next to me with eyes scanning around. The heat never bothered him. Plus, the jacket meant whatever he was carrying was more or less concealed.
The mall itself smelled of flower-scented air and air conditioning. It was about twenty degrees cooler than the summer day outside. I felt my goosebumps perk up as my whole body contracted at the cold. Wade just kept looking around. His eye paused briefly over the twentysomething at the sunglasses kiosk, but that was the only blip in his circuit around the room.
“Calendar Hut,” he said and started walking. This time I fell in a step behind him. He cut a path straight through a bunch of laughing teens. One of the guys went to flip him off until he saw me a step behind. An older person might note I look something like Jimmy Stewart. To the kid, I was just a big serious guy in a suit. They scattered.
“You are not funny,” Vitaly Veslav said in a thick Russian accent. He kept staring straight ahead, too. Wade and I flipped pages. Wade put down the Yankees and picked up a Giant calendar. I savored each page and took a bit longer with my cover. Next to me, 1985 just stood ramrod straight, staring past the crowds at the front door of the mall
...